


Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

by warmommy



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baseball, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 09:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13186821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmommy/pseuds/warmommy
Summary: Donny finally gets to take you to a real, live baseball game.





	Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find this and a lot more at my tumblr, warmommy.tumblr.com!

The afternoon had grown unbearably warm, especially with so many people all packed into one stadium. You had no idea what was going on, but everyone around you was going “ape fucking shit”. You thought of Rome, of the Coliseum, and wondered if the players in the field were eventually going to start beating the hell out of each other with those bats.

That was, after all, your entire acquaintanceship with the sport and its apparatus before now. Your eyes never focused on the ball or who was running where, just the batter, and every time a deft swing resulted in a sharp  _crack!_  that sent everyone scrambling, you could see, clear as day, a man falling to the ground, part of his temple crushed inward. You could hear the laughter, your own laughter joining the ruckus, so many voices that you’d never hear again.

Every single successful batting and you could see another blond head caved in, Donny standing over their broken bodies. It was almost mundane, in those days. The flashes of red on the uniforms only made it all the more vivid. When the game had ended, you hardly knew what was happening. You just felt a hand curl over yours, pulling you to stand, and noticed then that people were filing out of their seats and towards the exits. 

Donny was jabbering excitedly the entire time you waited for a cab and all the way home, your new home, because France had burned. You were American, now. Why couldn’t you hear what he was saying? 

It must have taken an hour or more, with such a long wait, but you felt as though you were stepping through your door within minutes. Donny was still talking, pouring a drink for the both of you. He turned with that big grin of his and passed it to you, but it disappeared quick. 

He moved closer to you, and you could  _see_  that he was saying your name, but, like everything before, the sound was muffled, muddled. He put the drinks down and touched your waist with one hand and snapped around your face with the other. 

“Hey. Mademoiselle.” Donny stroked your cheek. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s goin’ on?”

You blinked rapidly as everything rushed forward. “T'as pris ses papiers?”

He looked worried now and helped you into one of the kitchen chairs. “I don’t have to take anybody’s papers, doll. You know where you’re at? You’re in Boston, sweetheart.” His voice was so gentle, but his words confused you.

“Mais…” You sat back and looked around this room as though you’d never been there before. 

“H-hang on, okay? I’m callin’ the doctor.” 

You blinked again, then touched the wetness on your cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Donny paused and turned back to you. “Did you have a bad time at the game, baby?”

“It wasn’t the game,” you were quick to say. Baseball was important to Donny, so it was important to you. He’d be crushed if you ever let on that it made no sense to you. “It was the batters. I just got taken away.”

“To France, y’mean?” Seemingly he thought you were well enough not to make any phone calls yet. He sat across from you at the table and chewed his lip when he took your hand. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t, Donny, not at all. I’m not even sad. I’ve just seen you swing a bat hundreds of times, and it was always different from the real thing. Heads are different from baseballs, but they bounce just as much, and the sound is almost the same.” You shook your head and laughed. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to spoil your magical day.”

“No, no.” He scoffed in his classic smart ass way and squeezed your hand. “Fuckin’ kiddin’ me? I had the time of my goddamn life. All I wanted for so long was to be at Fenway with you. Are you all right? You gonna be okay?”

“Yes, of course.” Your fingers closed around the tumbler you’d both forgotten and you took a sip. “Sometimes the war still catches my spirit and I revisit things.”

Donny got a faraway look in his eyes and his smile was shadowed. “Yeah…me too. Funny thing is, long time ago, I met this  _gorgeous_  lady who took every single step I did, knew all the things I knew, saw all the same things as me. I was real lucky, I managed to convince her to come home with me, all the way across the ocean. When I think about bad shit, all I gotta do is think about her, go and see her, y’know, and I know I’m gonna see tomorrow.”

“Don’t make me cry again, crazy man.” You wiped your eyes. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, but he was back to grinning again. “I love you, kid. You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me. You know that?”

“Of course I am.” 

“There’s my girl. C’mon, let’s go be lazy bastards and lay down a while.” 

You nudged him, giggling, as you climbed into bed. He truly did look happy. You’d always wanted for him to be happy. “I know that you don’t intend for us to simply lie in bed, Donny.”

“Damn, foiled again.” He put his chin on your shoulder and lay with his stomach against your back. “We’re in Boston, you moved here to be with me. We got married in Paris, right after Germany surrendered. I come home every day to the most beautiful girl in the world. I’m gonna be with you forever, kid.”

You sighed happily, hand covering his. This was how you slept, every night. “Yes, you are. We married right in front of the Eiffel Tower because you are so kind to me, and because that was where Aldo happened to tell us he was an ordained minister.”

“It wasn’t Jewish, but it was a good day. I had all that morphine for the fuckin’ burns.” He kissed the back of your neck. “Remember what we talked about? Having tons of babies?”

“Of course I remember.”

He pulled you on top of himself and winked up at you. “Let’s get to it. We’re behind.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find this and a lot more at my tumblr, warmommy.tumblr.com!


End file.
